Lucky Number Seven
by Partners In Fanfic
Summary: A collection of oneshots in which our favorite CBI team is seen in various situations. Seven drabbles a chapter because, let's face it, any one of us would be lucky to be a member of the Serious Crimes Unit.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Mentalist is not owned by Partners in Fanfic. Never will be.**

**OVERVIEW: There will be 7 little oneshots a chapter (hence the title), ranging from humor to angst. Some will be pairings, romance, friendship, or a single person's thoughts. Whatever floats our little boat.  
**

**A/N: Alright peoples. Oneshots here. It's fiction so remember that it's not all true.**

**#3 was written by EAJP. Thanks very much to her. Otherwise I wouldn't have a #3 believe it or not. Haha. Anyway, #5 is a series of letters written back and forth between Jane and his archenemy, Red John. Obviously, it's crack. I almost forgot #2 which is an AU. It didn't happen, but it was my take on what could have been.**

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Lucky Number Seven -#7-**

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-written by KWY and co-authored by EAJP-

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**1.**

It didn't always used to be that way. That much was true. But to him, it felt as if it had always been. As if the time when his family used to be alive had never been, but had been just a dream created by his overactive imagination. Only the pictures, old clothing, now unused toys, and crudely drawn pictures by some child reminded him it was all reality.

Sitting at the empty dinner table whose top was untouched by another human presence, another plate of food other than his, Patrick Jane never felt more lonelier than that moment. In his ears rang the years of loud laughter, loving words, and the clinking and clanging of dishes that once could be heard even on the floor above.

His dull eyes took in the empty dining room, the wheels in his mind sluggishly turning to remind him what once used to be was no more. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he let the fork he had been holding drop back down onto the plate of now cold noodles with a clatter. The eerie silence of the house was playing with his nerves. It was practically deafening.

Jane leaned back into his chair, eyes closed for several seconds as he concentrated on the feeling of his mind pulsing. Just being in the house created a dull fog in his head, a painful clenching in his chest, and restlessness within his body.

A few more seconds and...

Jane jerked forward as an idea popped into his mind, so inviting, so much better than being alone in his old home that he grinned to himself. Getting up, he snatched up the plate of cold noodles, dumping them in the garbage can on his way to dump his dish and fork into the kitchen sink. Quickly making a note to himself to wash them when he got back (whenever that would be) Jane hurried off to the front door, grabbing his jacket along the way and throwing it over the dress shirt and vest that he hadn't bothered taking off.

There was the sound of jingling keys and the shutting of the front door accompanied by more jingling keys as the curly blond haired man locked the house and nearly skipped to the old contraption in his driveway that he called his car. Turning on the engines, he didn't even pause for a second as he backed out onto the street and took off.

About half an hour later, Teresa Lisbon (more affectionately known as simply Lisbon or Boss as the others called her) opened the door, confused as to who would be knocking on her apartment door at nearly eleven o' clock at night. Ignoring to check her appearence and making sure she looked somewhat presentable in favor of her curiosity, the poor woman nearly had a heart attack when she was greeted by the sight of a extremely familiar (a little too familiar to her liking, most likely due to just how much paperwork the man created just by himself) curley blond haired, blue eyed CBI consultant standing at her frontdoor, a grin on his face.

"Jane...what are you doing here...at eleven at night?" She hissed. The man shrugged and grinned even wider.

"Oh you know...misery loves company. May I?" He gestured behind her. Lisbon felt her eye twitched upon realizing that Patrick Jane-possibly the most annoying, sly, witty, trouble making person she had ever met in her life- wanted to go inside her home. Her peaceful, quiet, cozy home.

"I'm not miserable." She snapped. "I was quite comfortable before you showed." Jane just flashed her a smile.

"Oh I know." He replied. "I never said you were the miserable one around here. And I'm not really miserable either. However it was a good opportunity to use the expression. Don't you think so?"

Lisbon felt her eye twitch again at the disarming tone and smile. "Then why are you here?" She repeated.

Jane shrugged again. "I felt like having company tonight." And with that, he gently pushed aside Lisbon and began to promptly make himself at home.

After spending the night, doing a little bonding and becoming just a tad bit closer as friends, and just generally enjoying each others company, the next morning, Jane couldn't help but be bothered by the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. When he and Lisbon both stepped off the elevator together however, and felt the eyes of Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt staring, he realized what it was.

It was no surprise to him when a week later, he caught snippets of a conversation concering a betting pool. A betting pool whose main topic was whether or not he and Lisbon were...together. Lisbon on the other hand, when she found out about the betting pool two months later, nearly had a heart attack from pure shock.

**2.**

As always, things could have gone a lot differently if some things just had happened.

For example if Jane had simply never looked back at the CBI after he had turned in his identification card in Minelli's office, he would have never eventually figured out that killing someone was the last thing he would have ever wanted to do until it was too late. He would, just as he had vowed so many times before, successfully track down Red John and avenge his family in the exact same way as he had vowed to do: carving the serial killer up with his own weapon and watching the man bleed to death with sickening pleasure. After Red John finally died of blood loss, Jane would take the man's body and bury it in a garbage dump.

Hours afterwards though, in a small one room apartment he had rented somewhere in the middle of a bustling New York City, something in him would would end up turning himself in to the authorities, guilt and disgust overwhelming his natural insincts of self-preservation. The police would go and dig up the remains of the widely feared killer and with such heavy evidence and a confession in hand, the court case for Jane didn't even last an hour, ending with him being sentenced to life in prison.

What would shock him to his very core though, would be the faces of his old teammates staring solemnly at him in the crowd of reporters, police, jury members, and dozens of other people that had showed up to see the case. Once again, guilt and despair would overwhelm him. Jane would end up breaking down in the maximum security center he would have been placed in, earning him several long months in a psychiatric ward until he just couldn't take it anymore.

Patrick Jane would die by his own hands three years after the murder of the serial killer Red John. Just exactly how he had managed it though, would continue to baffle the investigators for years on end until they would eventually just forget about the blond man.

Out of the few who never would though was Teresa Lisbon. In fact she was the only one that when she would look back at Jane's suicide, she would smile and even laugh softly to herself. Why she did such a thing puzzled her subordinates for a long time. After all, despite everything, she had been rather fond of the annoying consultant. They would only understand why when she finally decided to explain to them and end up cracking smiles themselves.

She found amusement in Jane's suicide simply because it was so like him to die the way he would. Even in death, he was playing mind games with people.

But we all know that didn't really happen (you do right?). After all, that would have ended the show far too early and then what would the producers do? Sit there and play Dungeons and Dragons? Ha. Yeah right.

**3.**

**(Written by EAJP- give her thanks and a clap on the back.)**

The last time Lisbon saw Jane wearing something other than a suit, he was in a prison jumpsuit because he pissed off Bosco. In her mind, Jane wasn't Jane without one. It was part of who he was, just another characteristic that made him distinctly Patrick Jane.

Yet Lisbon knew her eyes weren't deceiving her when she thought she saw the pesky consultant inspecting tomatoes in the produce section of the grocery store. At first she dismissed the thought, but the familiar blond curly hair and brown loafers were a giveaway. But instead of a suit, he wore a white button down shirt (sleeves rolled up) and a pair of jeans.

She probably shouldn't have started walking toward him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it was a bad idea. But it was inevitable; the investigator in her needed to know how he acted in a pair of jeans.

"Jane?" She asked hesitantly, standing a few feet behind the man.

"Lisbon? Lisbon!" Jane exclaimed happily, turning around after putting a tomato in his cart. "What a pleasure seeing you here!"

"What are you doing here?" Lisbon asked dumbly.

"Well, I'm shopping for dinner, Teresa. Isn't it obvious? Oh never mind that, I assume you're doing the same?" Jane grinned his signature disarming smile.

"Um, yeah, I guess," she replied.

They chatted for a few minutes about the weekend and their plans. Jane (much to Lisbon's disappointment) was the same old Jane, but was more relaxed and at ease. At least there was a slight difference, and that was enough for Lisbon to keep trying to find any other difference.

"Hey, Lisbon! I have an idea!" Jane said, grinning like the Chesire Cat.

She groaned internally. Every time he said that, she always got in some kind of trouble. "What Jane?"

"I'll come over to your house and make dinner. It doesn't look like you have anything exciting planned for your meal, and my recipe can easily serve two."

"Uh, well," Lisbon had no idea what to say. She should have known he would have suggested that; it was only a matter of time before he felt the need to inspect her house.

"Aw come on, what do you have to lose?" Jane looked at her and pouted-the damn man pouted.

"Fine," she resigned with a sigh. She blamed it on the fact that he was wearing jeans. She felt the need to see more of how he acted in them, like maybe he wouldn't try to read her mind or psychoanalyze her without his usual suit and vest combination. She knew it probably wasn't true most likely wasn't true but curiosity got the best of her. And it most certainly got the best of her in the form of a blond haired, blue eyed consultant.

**THE MENTALIST**

The next morning, Lisbon awoke with a groan. Before she opened her eyes, she realized she was lying on something warm warmer than her bed, and more human like. And then the memories from last night came flooding back.

Jane had started a food fight with the grapes and strawberries they were having for dessert; Lisbon probably shouldn't have retaliated, but she did. She blamed it on Jane's jeans he was relaxed in them, and with his relaxation came her relaxation too.

Then Jane had offered her a second glass of wine. She probably shouldn't have accepted, but she did. She recalled briefly that her second glass of wine seemed never ending every time she took a sip and looked away, the amount of wine would magically go back to the level it started at when she looked back. She should have known that Jane was getting her slightly drunk (and that he was on the tipsy side himself), but she refused to think of it. She also blamed that on his jeans. He just looked too damn good in them. If she was expected to sit in the same room with him wearing those Levis, then she would damn well need all the liquor she could get.

And somehow, in her alcohol-induced haze, she had ended up on top of Jane, kissing him with a reckless abandon she hadn't experienced in a long time. She couldn't blame it on the jeans-well, technically, she could. But by the time they were on top of one another on the couch, the only thing she could blame her actions on was Jane himself. And right then, that didn't seem fair (she'd save the thought for work).

Lisbon kept her eyes closed. She didn't know what she was going to do from that point on, didn't know where her and Jane's relationship would go. But, she did know one thing: she was planning on making sure Jane wore jeans a lot more often.

**4.**

A little known fact about both Jane and Lisbon is that they have met before. Of course, ask either of them if they had before their fateful encounter at the CBI headquarters and they would have both denied it (Jane with less certainty than Lisbon).

Understandably they wouldn't remember, especially since it had been at a time that neither one of them had paid attention to the other.

For Jane, he had met Lisbon at the carnival he and his crook of a father had worked when he just a young boy learning the ropes of people reading and conning. His now adult mind could only draw forth fuzzy memories of a short little black haired girl with wide green eyes waving up happily at him from amongst her family- that was complete, whole, full of love, laughter, and-

At that time, childish jealousy had spouted from inside him and despite the powerful urge to scowl at her perfect little family, he had smiled and waved. And then she waved back, smiling happily at him and his jealousy and her family were all but forgotten.

For Lisbon, she had met Jane as a young girl whose family was still whole, when her mother had not yet died and her father hadn't started drowning himself in alcohol. Years after their encounter, she would only remember him as the cute blond kid that had smiled and waved at her from atop a ferris wheel. That was it. Never would she have ever guessed she would meet him again, a random stranger she had spotted. Never would she have guessed they would become co-workers, friends, and partners.

Both of them never realized just who the boy and the girl in their memories were. Never thought about it for more than a second. Never bothered to analyze that certain memory. But to this day, whenever Lisbon sees a ferris wheel, she has a strange want to look up and see if there was someone waving down at her. ('Curse that blinding sun...')

Jane on the other hand? He practically skips into the seat of one and rides it all the way to the top and down. And if there wasn't a ferris wheel in sight, he'll just skip right up to whatever thing that was the closest to him and highest off the ground and make himself comfortable. Even he himself didn't really understand his thing for sitting up high but he indulges in it whenever possible, something that Lisbon finds rather irritating and unprofessional on cases. ('Jane! Get off that tractor! And don't even think about getting back on when I'm not looking!')

But when the team went to a carnival one day and Lisbon insisted on staying on the ground and watch the rest of them ride a ferris wheel all the way around, waving and smiling up at them when they got to the top, something sparked Jane's mind and he suspected.

('Hey Lisbon...ever went to one of these when you were younger?')

**5.**

Like every good murderer, Red John occassionally writes letters to his favorite victim:

Dear Patrick Jane,

How have you been since the murder of your family? I hope you had fun cleaning up after me. I'm rather sorry I had to leave so quickly you know. I would have definitely enjoyed watching you break down and cry like one of those little girls that I cut up the other day. You should have heard her cries. Music to my ears.

Anyhoo, I heard you joined the CBI. Are your teammates nice to you? Are you still plagued by nightmares at night? I certainly hope that they're about me cutting up your wife and daughter. They were so beautiful covered in red. But getting back onto the main topic, I'm surprised you haven't made any significant progress in catching me since becoming part of the CBI. How disappointing, but I suppose that's how life is- unfair and rather disappointing.

Unfortunately, I must be going. Being a serial killer is a full time job you know? I constantly have to watch out for potential victims and scheme of different ways to break into a home without getting caught in the act of attempting to psychologicallly scar yet another person. The pay is horrible as well, but sometimes you just have to work for less just to have a job.

The Man You So Dearly Want to Kill,  
Red John :)

P.S. I've enclosed a gift for you.

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(I'm Going to Kill You) Red John,

I don't know why the hell you're writing to me but I will use this opportunity to track you down and cut you up the same way you cut up my family. I hope you go to hell after you die and burn to a crisp. I also hope the Devil is sadistic and gay and is obsessed with killers named Red John so that he'll pay extra attention to you when he's in the mood to torture some stupid soul. Do you even have one?

Go Burn In Hell So That I Can Laugh At You,  
Patrick Jane

P.S.

You're a freak. What the hell am I suppose to do with some girl's decaying ears?

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Dear Patrick Jane,

I'm quite delighted on just how eager you are to kill me. I won't be so bored all the time then. Killing people is fun and cutting them up is just as fun but no one seems smart enough to catch me. It's no fun without the chasing you know.

When I was a kid, I always dreamed of being wanted by everyone in the entire world. Quite the dream don't you think so? Look at me now.

By the way, I heard that your team has the highest success rate at closing cases because of you. Did you know that while you and your team were running around trying to find pieces evidence to solve the cases, I was doing crossword puzzles because I solved them already?

Really, if you want to kill me so much, you really should try and get better at your deduction skills. If you can't even close cases before I do, how are you ever going to find me?

Your Archnemesis,  
Red John :)

P.S. I thought they were rather cute.

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Red John,

I hope you break every single one of your bones in some FREAK accident.

And you solved all my cases before I could even find the pieces of evidence? Congrats. I hope you got a million paper cuts from that crossword puzzle book or newspaper or whatever the hell you're using. If not, I hope this letter does. Go bleed to death already. FREAK.

Die,

Patrick Jane

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Dear Patrick Jane,

The other day, you killed Hardy. I'm not happy. I repeat Mr. Jane, I'm not happy. He was one of my most useful subordinates and even could have been considered a friend. Watch your back Mr. Jane because someone precious to you just might end up the same way as your dear little wife and daughter did. Perhaps if I cut all the skin off their bones and hang it in your bedroom your hatred of me will deepen and you will break down again (this time with me watching).

Whatever, I'll think about doing that after I castrate and skin alive this man I've been stalking for a week now.

Your (somewhat upset) Archnemesis,  
Red John :)

P.S.  
I think I'll send you pictures of the castration.

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Dear (Go to Hell and BURN) Red John,

Your stalking men now? I always knew you were gay. That would certainly explain why you're so obssessed with me. Seriously, I don't swing that way.

And what exactly are you going to do with the man's private parts after you cut it off? You know what? I don't want to know. Just reading those words made me throw up in my mouth a little. That's sick, nasty, and completely and utterly revolting.

If you send me those pictures I'll make a voodoo doll of you and burn it along with them (after stabbing it, let it be chewed up by a vicious dog, shooting holes in it, and pounded on by sharp rock). In fact, I'm going to do it anyway.

Patrick Jane

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Dear Mr. Jane,

I apologize for not writing in such a long time. It's been quite a busy month with two more victims being added to my now rather extensive list. One of my female subordinates that escaped after you tried to put her in jail seemed to have gotten it into her head that she's going to be the one to have my babies! Can you believe that Patrick?

I bet you had something to do with it. I will retaliate...but for now I must concentrate on avoiding her. I do not care much for women like her.

Your Favorite Killer,  
Red John :)

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I've soaked this sheet of paper in poison that'll immediately soak through your skin and go straight for your heart and kill you in a agonizingly painful manner.

Patrick Jane

P.S. You probably won't even get this far but when I find your rotting corpse, I'm going to dance on it and blast 'Walking on Sunshine' at the same time.

P.S.S.  
And don't call me Patrick. I'm not gay like you.

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Dear Patrick,

I'm rather peeved that you've killed another one of my loyal subordinates. Michael was going through my mail today since I was too busy looking over the pictures of a recent murder I've committed and upon touching your letter, he fell screaming to the floor and soon after died. This is rather unfortunate and irritating. He was one of my favorites and I did not enjoy having to bury him in my backyard. Mr. Jane, I'll be getting touch with you soo-

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Dear Red John,

As I told you I would, I am currently dancing on your corpse while writing this one last letter (though Lisbon disapproves of my dancing, oh well). Why I'm writing it, I have no idea. But it seems my plan worked. Taking your gayness into consideration and your cautiousness as well, I made it so that the poison would discreetly bleed through the skin of the first victim and into the bloodstream of the next person to touch the body's bare flesh (and then kill you in exactly three hour's time slowly and painfully).

You just couldn't resist getting grabby could you?

Haha,  
Patrick Jane

P.S. It's rather fitting to listen to 'Walking on Sunshine' on such a beautiful day.

P.S.S Have fun in Hell!

P.S.S.S.  
And don't worry about your body. Because of you, there are a few less hungry sharks in the world.

**6.**

If there was one thing that everyone (even the people outside of Lisbon's team) dread (feared really) hearing was the sound of one consultant's voice going, "Hey! Can somebody make me some tea?"

By the time said consultant turned around to look at everyone, they were all either concentrating hard on the work that they had previously been neglecting in favor of lazing around or gone in a fluttering of paperwork.

"Funny." Jane remarked wryly. "A second ago I could have sworn everyone wasn't doing a single thing and now your're all suddenly busy. Cho?"

The Asian man didn't even glance up. "I'm running the databases for Lisbon. She wants more evidence to be able convict our current suspect."

"Isn't that usually Van Pelt's job? Speaking of Van Pelt, what about you? Can't you make me some tea? I do have a broken leg as you can see." For emphasis, he lifted up his cast slightly. The red head gave him a slightly flustered and guilty look.

"Sorry Jane. I'm helping Cho run the databases. Lisbon wants it done as soon as possible."

The blond consultant sighed in disappointment and turned to Rigsby. The big man slunk even further down in his seat. "How about you Rigsby? Want to make your old buddy a cup of tea?"

"Uh...er...Well, I'd...Actually...Uuh..." Rigsby continued to stammer and point to computer and stack of papers in front of him, desperately not wanting to have to make tea for the blond.

Jane rolled his eyes. "Oh fine. Go do your paperwork." Relief immediately spread across Rigsby's face and he hurriedly shuffled through his files in an effort to look extra busy.

For several seconds there was silence that was only penetrated by papers being moved around, writing utensils scratching against said papers, and the fingers tapping away at the keyboards. For a moment, it seemed as if Jane had finally decided to let go of the tea. And then-

"LISBON! MAKE ME SOME TEA!" He paused. "AND MAKE SURE YOU DUNK THE TEA BAG IN THREE TIMES EXACTLY, STIR IT FOR HALF A MINUTE, AND PUT THE MILK IN BEFORE AND AFTER! OH AND THE SUGAR HAS TO BE HALF THE AMOUNT OF THE MILK!"

**7.**

"Well this certainly serves you right." Jane said dryly. He was gently supporting one rather disgruntled Teresa Lisbon who had insisted on walking out of the hospital by herself and to her car...on crutches.

He gave a smirk of amusement as he watched her stumble around on crutches, attempting, but failing rather miserably, to figure out how to walk around on crutches without falling over. A snort of laughter escaped his mouth when she accidentally caught one of the ends of the crutches in a crack in the sidewalk and causing her to veer dangerously forward.

A pair of fiery green eyes drilled holes into him. "Oh really?" She growled. "So breaking my leg is my reward for doing my job and catching a criminal?" Lisbon let out a hiss of frustration as she slowly moved forward, almost forgetting to take the crutches along with her body movement.

Jane grinned widely at her. "More or less." He replied. "You really should have let Rigsby take care of the man. He was closer anyway." Lisbon scoffed.

"Either way, someone would have ended up with a broken leg." She snapped. Jane shrugged. "It just wouldn't have been me."

"Exactly. Now how about I go to the library or something and pick up a book that explains just how someone should be using crutches? Oh look, it's the team." He waved.

Lisbon threw him a dirty look. "Shut up. I just need to get used to these." She too turned towards the direction where the others were waiting and smiled at them.

"Hm." He was watching her clumsy movements carefully now (and making her slightly uncomfortable in the process), wondering just exactly why Lisbon was having so much difficulty with the crutches. He was so absorbed with making sure that she didn't just randomly collapse that he didn't notice the tree the duo was steadily approaching.

"Jane! Watch out for that-" Rigsby was cut off by a loud and rather painful sounding 'thump' as the unsuspecting blond consultant walked straight into a tree, followed by near hysterical laughter from their boss. "-tree..." Next to him Cho gave a snort and smirked while Van Pelt merely followed Lisbon's example and broke into laughter.

On the ground...Jane groaned as stars swam in his vision, wondering why it was that the gods had such a twisted sense of humor.

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**Like it? Leave us your thoughts. **

**A/N: EAJP here. KWY and I have a Twitter account for our Fanfiction, so if you have a Twitter, feel free to follow us for updates. We're Partners_Fanfic (note the underscore). Just send us a tweet to say that you're from FF. Thanks. -EAJP (and KWY)**

**Also, if you ever have an idea for the Mentalist, tell us. We'll be happy to see what we can do with it. xD**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Mentalist. Not owned by us. **

**Second chapter's out. Slow progress, I know. #9 was just plain random and #10 is practically crack. Eh, just the usual stuff. **

_EAJP here. Ahem. Hi. I'm proud of KWY for this...She's been working harder than I have. Anyway, it felt good to beta again. I have nothing more to say, really. Hope you enjoy it!_**  
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**Lucky Number Seven -#7-**

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-written by KWY and co-authored by EAJP-

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**8.**

Cho smirked as he watched a certain blond consultant stumble around blindly-quite literally-his rather useless walking cane tapping this way and that.

_'Thump.'_

"Ow!"

_Hey, there was a box there Jane._

Things had become rather amusing around the bull pen since Jane had once again (somehow...) temporarily lost his ability to see. Amusing and calmer...supposedly. There was less wandering around and bothering people and less pestering overall on the man's part. Now if only he'd temporarily lose his voice...

_'Bam.'_

_Ow. That must have hurt._

Most people would have thought that for someone like Jane, even if he were to lose his sight, he still wouldn't have any problems maneuvering around the bull pen. After all, he noticed everything and missed nothing. He checks the bottoms of shoes worn by people bound to a wheelchair for god's sake! And what other person other than Jane or some insanely lucky guy could win hundreds of thousands of dollars at a casino in one night?

"Can someone PLEASE move all these things out of my wa-"

_'Thunk!'_

For some reason though, even for someone who seemed to be psychic half the time, he was just as clumsy as, well, anyone else. In fact, Cho was sure that even pigeons, as unintelligent as they were, could be faring better than Jane at the moment.

_'Crash!'_

_Watch out for that desk Jane...and the chairs._

For him, at that moment, life was truly good. No cases and a free comedy show. For Cho, that was all he could ask for at the moment. It got even better though when Van Pelt entered the bull pen and stared bewilderingly at the sight of Jane sprawled out awkwardly between a desk and two chairs. And just when he thought it couldn't get any better than that, Lisbon showed up.

"What the- JANE!"

It really couldn't get any better than that. Really. Not unless like, Red John showed up. Or a television crew so he could buy a tape of this.

9.

Cho was an avid reader. That much was obvious to almost anyone who spent any length of time with him. As soon as a lull in work came around, the Asian man would whip out one of his trusty novels and begin reading. Seeing Cho without a book was like seeing Rigsby not eating- which almost never happened. In fact, one of the relatively unknown facts about him that Jane had not yet discovered was that the avid reader was also an avid writer.

He has actually published a book already- a rather successful one- that told the story of a carnie boy turned conman named James and his adventures with the KBI, a governement agency. As you can imagine, KBI stood for Kansas Bureau of Investigation. Hey, no one ever said he was imaginative.

Called 'The Conman', the story began with the carnie boy turned conman in his mid thirties, widowed, and heartbroken. His family was dead, killed by a serial killer, leaving him nothing to live for. Yet he lived on, vowing to avenge his dead wife and son. To do so, he joined the KBI to be granted more information on the murderer and then one day track him down and kill the man. However, his superior disapproved. Lesly, a senior officer, grew fond of James over time, doing her best to dissuade the ex-conman from the dark path he was slowly going down.

A series of dark events, broken hearts, flying bullets, more broken hearts, and tragedy followed. Somewhere amongst it all, another man comes into the picture, Rosco who is married but intent on capturing at least a part of Lesly's heart back. But in the end, happiness prevailed, the murderer was arrested, and James realized in all his infinite wisdom that Lesly loved him and he loved her. So they ended up marrying one another, having lots of babies, and living happily ever after.

Cho might not be one of the most imaginative people around. But at least he can write. After all, he was a bestseller.

"Hey Cho, ever read this book called 'The Conman' by Choball Kim?"

The Asian man glanced up from his most current novel in hand. "Can't say I have, Jane."

"Hmm...His name kind of reminds me of yours. In fact, there's something oddly familiar about the whole entire story. Something...very odd and familiar...Anyway! I recommend it!"

10.

It all started one day when Rigsby was studying Red John's somehat chilling signature on the wall of a small apartment where yet another murder had been committed by the notorious serial killer.

Outside of the room he was in, Jane was pacing through the entire place, trying to find more evidence, grim determination clear on his face while Lisbon followed anxiously behind him. Cho was in the same room as Rigsby, studying the corpse and Van Pelt was questioning the man who had found the dead woman just outside in the tiny hallway.

While he had seen the crying smiley face several times before, this time, something about it intrigued him. There was nothing off about it. Jane had already confirmed that it was genuine- drawn in blood with three fingers with a counterclockwise motion while wearing a rubber kitchen glove- and yet Rigsby couldn't help but feel there was something strange about the face.

For several minutes he had just stood there, staring at it, trying to place what it was. And then it hit him. So hard that Rigsby had to stop himself from slamming his forehead into the drywall for missing something so obvious.

"What are you doing?" The burly man turned to see Cho staring at him with a strange look on his face, clearly wondering whether he had gone insane. Rigsby made a feeble gesture to Red John's signature. Cho raised an eyebrow.

"The face." Rigsby pointed to it. "Look at it! Does it remind you of anyone?" The blank-faced Asian man blinked.

"Yea. It reminds me of Red John." He replied dryly. The other agent shook his head violently.

"No!" He bursted out. "Not of Red John. Does it remind you of anyone we know?" Cho stared at him. "Look at the face!" He cried. The shorter man sighed and did as he was told, turning his stare to the red smiley face.

"...Am I suppose to be reminded?" He questioned.

Rigsby groaned. "Yes! It looks like Jane! See the eyes? They look exactly like his when he smiles!"

"What about me?" Speak of the devil. Jane popped his head through the doorway of the room, looking at the two curiously, a steely gleam still in his eyes.

Cho answered him without even turning around. "Rigsby says that Red John's signature face looks like you when you smile. And it kind of does." He added as an afterthought. The blond's face darkened for a moment before brightening up.

"Really? Well, I guess we'll just have to fix that!" And then he disappeared. The other two casted a glance to one another.

"He's acting kind of...OOC. Should we be worried?" Rigsby wondered aloud. Cho shrugged rather unhelpfully in reply, pausing slightly to blink at Rigsby

"OOC?"

The taller man blinked back, as if to say, 'What?' And then someone else came in.

"Worried about what?" This time it was Van Pelt. Apparently she had finished her questioning. Both men twitched at the feeling of slight deja vue.

"We told Jane that Red John's smiley face looked like him when he was smiling and then he just said, 'I guess we'll have to fix that,' before walking off." Rigsby told her.

The red haired woman frowned slightly as she analyzed the face on the wall. "Oh hey...you're right. It does look like him." Then she frowned even more. "What's Jane going to do?"

The other two shrugged and an uneasy silence followed as all sorts of scenarios ran through their minds. Van Pelt started. "You know...maybe we should..."

"Hey I'm back guys!" Cheerfully, Jane strode into the room with a confused looking Lisbon trailing after him.

"Jane? Just what the hell are you going to do with that bucket of paint?" The consultant just gave her one of his disarming smiles.

"Oh don't worry about it woman. You'll see." With that, he set the bucket down, cracked the lid open, produced a paintbrush out of nowhere, and dipped it into the bright red paint.

"Jane..." Lisbon began warningly. "Don't you dare do what I think you're about to do." But it was too late. Quickly, before the senior agent could stop him, Jane swept the paintbrush over the smiley face, giving it a mohawk before moving to paint on a pair of red shades.

Smiling brightly and whistling merrily, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There! Now it looks like Kanye West with a mohawk!"

His superior groaned and ran a hand over her face. "I can't believe you just defaced that."

Cho stared at his boss stoically. "Sure you can. It's Jane."

11.

People who hung around Rigsby enough learned quickly that the man was quite literally, for lack of a better term, a human food vacuum. Hence was the reason why his teammates and co-workers never fretted about ordering too much. Anything left over went to Rigsby. And the man never refused free food, unless it was like...you know, carrots and all that vegetable-y stuff (Yes, Van Pelt, we're looking at you. Giving him carrots for a snack...tsk tsk.)

Wait...What? You accidentally ordered a large grande hamburger, super sized fries, and a extra large drink? Can you even accidentally do that? Eh, whatever. No problemo my friend. Take what you want and fork the rest over to the Rigsman. He'll swallow it faster than you can take a single bite.

Thought you were hungry, but after ordering, can't even fathom sinking your teeth into your meal? Psh. Don't worry about wasting money. No sweat. Give Rigsby a call and he'll be there faster than Superman can even answer someone's cry for help.

And so when the team went out to eat together at Subway after a long case, none of them hesitated to order the footlong sandwiches. Especially not the Rigsman Food Vacuum, who ordered two.

And like always, there was someone who just couldn't finish their portion. That day, it was Van Pelt, who had ordered her footlong with some chicken pieces, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and an assortment of other yummy ingrediants.

"Hey Rigsby."

"Hmpfhwa?" The man's neck snapped up at a neckbreaking speed (pun!) at the sound of his love's voice.

"Er...You wanna finish my sandwhich for me?"

"Fehycha!...ashinet?" Van Pelt's response? To blink rapidly until Jane cleared up the confusion for the still chewing Rigsby.

"He said, 'Heck yea!' and then, 'What's in it?'" The blond consultant supplied helpfully.

"Oh. Er, cheese, lettuce, chicken-"

"Okay!"

Off to the side, Jane was being Jane while Cho was being Cho. As in Jane was making some sort of hush hush inappropriate comment to Lisbon about what just occurred and Cho was stoically being amused. Lisbon, who was unfortunate enough to sit next to the blond man just twitched and did her best to ignore her (her?) consultant.

"Yea, you give that foot long chicken sandwich to him Van Pelt." A snicker, and then back to pestering his boss about what she liked or whatever the hell he wanted to know. Off to the side, Cho just shook his head when Rigsby turned his confused expression to him.

Across from Rigsby, Van Pelt was a completely different story. It seemed she wasn't as innocent as Rigsby probably thought of her as, judging by the light flush on her cheeks.

12.

In the filing cabinet in Minelli's office that sits next to the potted plant, the blue recycling can, and wall, there is a certain file. In that file are other files, amongst them a single particular file that Minelli updates frequently. It is...

Teresa Lisbon's Files: CBI Senior Agent

Confidential Files:  
Things Lisbon's Team Is No Longer Allowed Near or Do: (anyone who knowingly allows said things to happen will immediately face sever punishment...SEVERE)

Rules #1-10

#1: Patrick Jane is forbidden from being anywhere within 200 yards of the CBI Headquarters with a box of glitter. In fact, he is forbidden to have even a speck of glitter on him at all within aforementioned distance. Just because glitter is 'pretty and sparkly' Jane, does not mean you can cover everything in janitors did not appreciate running around half blinded from the brightness.

#2: Lisbon, we know Jane is annoying. However that still does not make it okay for you to try and break his arm.

#3: Referring to rule #2, Jane you are no longer allowed to say or even think of saying the word 'kinky' while in such a position. Saying it will not and did not endear you to your boss. No, not even if Lisbon secretly 'has the hots for you'. And unless you want me to fire you, stop insinuating to Bosco that you two are having some sort of sexual relationship!

#4: Sam Bosco does not have AIDS and is not a pedophile. Cho, stop encouraging Jane to continue spreading that rumour. Your face is too serious all the time. All the newly recruited agents wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.

#5: Kimball Cho is hereby banned from ever being the speaker of a welcome meeting with any new agents again. Ever. Just because Rigsby and Jane paid you to talk to them about the dangers of wearing or not wearing a condom and how to secretly watch porn on your work computers instead of the policies of the CBI does not mean you can. In fact, you are also hereby banned from talking to any of the new agents.

#6: Jane you are not allowed to spray paint, "Haha! i stOLez ur DOnutzzz Bozzsco! Ur secuRity Cam Suxxxxs!111!" on Sam Bosco's door. Nor are you allowed to ever pick up, touch, look at, or even think of spray painting on his door again. Not even if Lisbon laughed at it. Especially not if Rigsby said you could and don't ever try to pretend that I gave you permission to do.

#7: Lisbon's team is never allowed to watch cartoons again, even if they have nothing to do but 'watch air fight air'. None of you are the people from Dragonball Z. Stop pretending and telling people you are. Cease that immediately. We already have complaints of Jane shouting, "KAMEHAMEHA!" during the missions.

#8: Telling gullible agents that if they manage to make Cho smile and laugh on video then they will automatically be promoted is not acceptable. And Cho, you are not allowed to use your military experience to apprehend them and 'teach' them a lesson. You're paying for those hospital bills.

#9: Never EVER under any circumstances can Jane ever hypnotize another person. I still have strange urges to peck at the ground. Anyone who knowingly allows him to do so will be showing visitors around the state capitol in a stupid hat. Thank you Lisbon for that excellent idea.

#10: Rigsby, you are now no longer allowed to walk anywhere withing five feet of any other refridgerator other than the one that was assigned to your team. You have no idea how many complaints I recieved from all the other teams in the building about their empty fridges. Do it again and I'll start sending the expense bills to you as well.

13.

It was quiet for once in Lisbon's office. The only sound being the scratching of her pen against the papers and the soft ticking of the clock. And then Jane arrived.

She winced as the door flew open loudly, dead silence following the blond consultant in. Lisbon didn't doubt one bit that the other three were waiting to see if they should start preparing for the man's funeral. She scowled slightly as she forced herself to ignore the pesky man, knowing all too well he fed off of attention.

"I'm eating a cookie!" Jane announce, sounding almost proud of the fact. Hiding behind her bangs, Lisbon rolled her eyes at him.

"Good for you." She muttered wryly. A short silence followed, almost as if Jane was expecting more from her. Sighing in exasperation she finally glanced up at the man. As she thought, he was looking at her expectantly. "What?" She barked.

He shrugged. "Want some?" He inquired, holding out his half nibbled cookie to her. Wrinkling her nose slightly, she pushed his hand away.

"No. Now get out Jane. I have work to do." He practically huffed like a five year old.

"I don't want to. I wanna share my cookie with you!"

"I don't want it!"

Surprisingly, he didn't answer her and when she looked up again, he was sitting in the chair in front of her desk, nibbling all the while on his cookie, his eyes staring straight at her. She groaned.

"Fine! If I eat it, get out alright?" He brightened up instantly.

"Okay!"

"Give it to me already." For a second, mischeif flashed through the man's eyes and Lisbon immediately regretted her choice of words. "The cookie I mean!"

"Well, if you want...it...so badly, I'll definitely give it." He drawled.

"Look Jane, either give me the cookie or get out already." She could feel the tips of her ears starting to burn.

"Geez, is that what they call it-"

"Jane!"

"Okay, okay woman. Take a joke. I'll leave you alone after I give you the cookie. But you have to close your eyes and then properly identify it by tomorrow. Successfully identify the cookie and you'll be Jane-free for the rest of the week." He gave her his signature disarming smile while she glared at him warily.

"You swear?"

"I swear!" He even held up his hands and fingers to show them to be uncrossed. Lisbon nodded in agreement.

"Just hurry up." She grumbled irritably. He grinned widely.

"Close your eyes then." She did so. "And open wide."

"Wha- You never-"

"Jane-free for a week, Lisbooon..."

After a little more grumbling, she finally opened her mouth. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and then-

"You're alive?" Rigsby stared at the still living, breathing consultant that had emerged from his boss's office, looking strangely smug and satisfied with himself. "We were sure she was going to kill you!"

Jane shrugged good naturedly. "Well I suppose she does like me more than she lets on." He headed straight towards his couch, well aware of the curious and stunned (in Rigsby's case) looks aimed at him. They were all wondering what had happened.

And he would probably never tell them unless they literally begged to know. The day, Lisbon shoved a small package into his hands upon her arrival before hurrying into her office, slamming it behind her, and even going so far as to lock it. Amused, Jane opened the package to reveal what he knew all along was it in: double chocolate chip cookies.

As promised, he left Lisbon alone all that week, content with entertaining himself with images from what had happened in Lisbon's office and incorporating it into anything and everything he wanted.

14.

Put together, Rigsby, Cho, and Jane made one of the most effective three man teams around. Why? Because they each could contribute. Ignoring the fact that they were probably also one of the most dysfunctional, loony, and potentially dangerous teams around, they were more or less top notch.

Jane was the brain of the team, never missing anything, and always seeing everything. He could execute near flawless plans despite how unorthodox and crude some of the methods were. He could see through most people like they were glass and toy around with them until they could no longer play his mind games and just give up.

While Jane was slippery, sly, and could work his way out of all sorts of situations, when the going got too rough or too physical, he stepped back and let the other two handle it, namely Rigsby. The burly man's size and muscle alone could intimidate people into confessions at times. If that wasn't enough, he brought out his strength into play. With one hand, he could easily crack a desk and seeing that in action was even more intimidating, going so far as to even send one or two blubbering for mercy.

Cho was the middle man. He was the jack of all trades and master of none. He was an excellent agent and gave all he could. He wasn't stronger than Rigsby, but he was stronger than Jane (supposedly) and could take down a man twice his size. He was certainly not smarter than Jane, though he could best Rigsby in a game of chess. What he did have though was the unnerving stare, the intimidating aura around him, the monotonous voice (it was surprisingly much more useful than one could imagine), and as Jane described it, his Cho-ness.

Though as awesome as it would have been, these three aren't just a three man team. They're Lisbon's team. And Lisbon and Van Pelt, the only other female in their group, are more than content to step back and let their boys handle it when they just don't feel like getting up and getting their clothes dirty.

Of course being the workaholic Lisbon is, she gets up and does the dirty work even when she can barely stand, tackling and crippling men three times her weight (something that frightens Rigsby very much so). Van Pelt is almost just as dangerous as Lisbon. She has a much more compassionate side than her superior however (something that attracts Rigsby more than he's brave enough to admit).

Shove all five together and you have a kick-ass team that closes cases faster than any other could possibly even dream of.

* * *

**Just leave your thoughts as you walk out. Thanks muchly. I'll be updating chapter three in a week or two so keep a look out for it. **

**-KWY**

**(EAJP here. Got a Twitter? Follow us at Partners_Fanfic. There's a link on our FF profile page. Thanks.)  
**


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